


Kindling

by ozsia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Drabble, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Mistakes were made, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Snapshots, War, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsia/pseuds/ozsia
Summary: 'You have to get him out of here.'‘Who?’‘The Avatar,’ the guard says and Lance’s insides freeze.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance’s back hit the wall, his head rattles from the force but Fire Nation’s armour blocked most of the blow. His arms are pinned behind his back though and the grooves in the gauntlets he's wearing make freeing them impossible with the pressure the guard is holding him down with. 

His anxiety's almost paralysing as he looks into the dark eyes staring down at him. ‘Water Tribe,’ the guard breathes like he’s seen a miracle; he might as well have with how the South was painted red. Benders, specifically, were targeted but so many more were killed or taken; his home was destroyed, their elders gone and most of their young children without parents.

Lance’s tongue is numb as he stares back at the guard. He has the standard Dadao, attached to his belt like every other soldier but he can’t reach it, and even if he could wrench himself free, he isn’t good with the sword and it would take time to kill the guard, time and noise. Should Lance manage it, he’d draw the eye of the station that was looming above their position near the wall he’d been patrolling. 

This guard, though - isn’t raising the alarm, allowing the shock to settle; maybe a sympathiser. That one whisper of hope is enough for Lance to remain quiet, still. He’s been on  this mission for months now, infiltrating this prison. The information he's managed to send back to the Resistance was barely worth the risk. Nothing to explain the changes that had been occurring in Beta Traz.

The guard swallows and his grip tightens to a bruising degree. ‘Are you with the Resistance?’ he whispers right against Lance’s ear, tone desperate. ‘Are you here for him?’

Lance blinks in confusion. ‘Him who?’ he murmurs back because quiet is good, quiet is _great;_ it's what would keep him alive.

‘You don’t know,’ the guard summarises from Lance’s response and that makes him tense all over again. Was that no good? Would that be enough to set the guard off? Did that make him useless? ‘But, you _are_ part of the Resistance.’

Lance takes a breath. A gamble. He's dead either way. He nods. 

The guard relaxes and gives a quiet thanks in his own language before switching back to Common. ‘You - _you_ have to get him out of here.’ 

Lance doesn’t bother to argue, he isn’t in the position to. ‘Who?’ he demands instead. He’d heard of the Resistance having to save “traitors” or their families and if Lance has already been found, he has to get out. No one would thank him for taking pointless risks; they just didn’t have enough active men to condone it unless absolutely necessary.

‘The Avatar,’ the guard says and Lance’s insides freeze.

The Avatar.

The _Avatar?_ Before the war, the Avatar was murdered and then - the Air Nomads - they were viciously attacked, countless children killed and the new Avatar presumed dead. Then the Water Tribe, - his _home -_ until the Fire Nation had what they wanted; until they were next in the cycle and though there had been whispers, no one knew what had happened. 

‘He’s -’ Lance swallows the rest of the words, voice too loud. ‘You know him. Because you know he’s a him and he’s here. They’ve been _keeping the Avatar here?!'_

The Fire Nation didn’t mess with people. Not Guards, not for a single, unrecognisable member of the Resistance. There was point to this. And the guard - those eyes, they sang with urgency. ‘Yes. Yes. He’s called Keith and he’s been trapped in a cell like an animal and he’s not going to last -’

‘They’ve been keeping the Avatar in a _cell?!’_ Lance exclaims in quiet outrage.

The guard swallows thickly. ‘This is _Beta Traz.’_

‘Right.’ Lance blinks. ‘I’m…confused.’

‘The Avatar is Fire Nation, but they can’t turn him to their cause. They can’t kill him because then the cycle continues and they’ll have to find them again.’ The guard squeezes Lance but it is not painful. ‘I can’t get him out by myself, I’ve thought about it but - there’s too many risks. But you’re Resistance.’ 

‘I…have a contact,’ Lance admits with his heart in his throat. ‘But we do this _my_ way and if I get one _hint -’_

The guard lets Lance go and he instantly stumbles until he regains his footing. His arms unfold from behind him, the blood flowing again is almost painful and they are complain when he shakes them out. ‘Your way,’ the guard agrees before he takes off his helmet. The sudden _human face_ gazing at Lance, Fire Nation sharp features and dark colours aside, is terribly sincere. ‘Your way, just - _help me.’_

Shakily, Lance takes a step back; needs the space, needs to gather his bearing. ‘Name,’ he breathes.

‘Just…Shiro,’ the guard - Shiro states, blinking glazed eyes. ‘You -?’

‘And how did you…’ Lance gestures at himself, not quite willing to share. That, and his uniform is exact, worn properly. He’s studied how they behave and their language and he _needs to know what he’s done wrong._ To not leave, to fix this, so this didn’t happen again. 

‘Oh,’ Shiro the Guard says. Lance thinks, vaguely that he’s seen this guy around but then socialising isn’t the Fire Nation way, least it isn’t now. ‘Oh, you’ve got obvious Water Tribe heritage but that - wasn’t what gave you away. I noticed you when you arrived and...you flinch when someone bends, you grimace at meal times. And when the east side patrol past you, you tensed, reached for your weapon and - it was nothing but I’ve been…paranoid. I _need someone_ to help because Keith…’ Shiro the Guard takes another breath, like he’s trying his best to relax but just can't. ‘You might’ve just been another soldier, honestly.’

‘Grasping at water.’ Lance doesn’t settle but it means he’s not fully compromised. Shiro the Guard, without his helmet, looks desperate; unsteady, like he's seconds away from charging the prison himself. Lance could almost _taste_ his urgency.

If this is all one elaborate ploy then he’ll just have to be careful when he sends word to Pidge, but - _but_ this could mean…this could be the break that they’ve been waiting for. This is too big for Lance _not_ to take seriously. ‘Okay,' he breathes. 

'Okay, prove it to me.’


	2. Chapter 2

‘Alright,’ Shiro murmurs lowly as they walk around the compound on patrol. He must have pulled a few strings because Lance's been suddenly seeing a lot of him. ‘I can take you tomorrow. You can meet him.’

Lance has already sent word to Pidge, for a special extraction that needs to be made but he hadn’t specified just who it's for. There was a certain amount of risk with sending off information and they always tried - even with coded messages, to only give the most basic form of what they had to communicate. 

Lance hesitates though, enough for Shiro to notice. ‘There’s protocol for how to capture members of the Resistance, and I promise you that this isn’t one of them,’ Shiro says lightly.

Lance supposes he has a point and agrees to meet with Shiro. The morning he's on duty but after that he's free - or rather, he wouldn’t be missed. Shiro nods and remains silent after that. No one spoke much here, there's a stilted air, even among the Fire Nation. Something Lance couldn’t bring himself to break. 

The tension remains as he went to bed, woke up and went to work. Every second seems twice as long as he mentally prepares himself, until Shiro intercepts him in the afternoon, redirecting him from where Lance was walking without a word.

‘Down?’ Lance asks as Shiro brought him to the castle intersection, closing in on the stairs. He hadn’t been near this area very often though Lance has attempted to venture closer to investigate, he couldn’t push it too much without creating suspicions. Here, now, he could guess why.

‘Yes,’ Shiro replies lowly as he pushes on the door that leads down steep stone stairs. The narrow staircase is lit through torchlight but it's still eerily dark, foreboding. ‘It’s safe,’ he reassures when it’s obvious Lance pauses at the top.

Lance huffs a laugh. ‘Cause it is, just going down into the Fire Nation’s killing dungeon.’

Shiro snorts. ‘People die on every level,’ he retorts with a grim expression. ‘Maximum security is down here.’ 

Lance steps down, hand digging into the wall for balance. His knees feel weak on these stairs as the door close behind them and it grew darker. The air's thicker, cold and damp even with the torches. ‘For important people?’ Lance asks as he tries to ignore how chilled his flesh is becoming, his hair standing on end and his muscles tense.

‘You could say that,’ Shiro says, ‘I don’t look into any of the cells but the avatar’s; you’ll just feel guilty when we can’t save them all.’ 

Lance’s stomach twists uneasily but he silently agrees as they enter into a tight corridor. Shiro pats his shoulder and gestures to go left. Their footsteps are loud but the chorus of pain; muffled groans, muted crying is louder still. 

Lance feels sick.

‘This one,’ Shiro says and Lance is almost thankful when he reaches to his belt to pull off a large collection of keys. He barely looks at them when he inserts one into the metal door. Shiro unbolts the security lock and then turns the handle.

Lance isn’t sure what he's expecting when the door opens into a room that couldn’t fit four people inside. Squinting through the shadows, Lance vaguely sees the silhouette of a man slumped against the back wall; his arms shackled and chained above his head. He's hanging there like a pinned butterfly. 

Shiro grabs the torch based next to the door and hastily hands it off to Lance as he hurries inside. Lance blinks as he follows after, clumsily lifting the torch to light the way. It’s disquieting for Lance, to have this element so close to him but it’s admittedly useful.

The darkness recede and the cell burns ember. Lance’s eyes sting but he blinks through it to watch Shiro crouch in front of the presumed Avatar, leaving his back unprotected. That - actually makes Lance feel a lot better over this situation as his eyes flicker from the guard to the prisoner. 

The man's around Lance’s age and he's gaunt. His threadbare clothes hang off of him, he's a mess and not at all impressive at first glance. His heritage is clear too, with his pale skin and dark hair, the shape of his eyes, even the straight slope of his nose.

His eyes peel open and those - those aren’t a colour Lance had expected, or even seen before for irises. Indigo like his mama’s flowers, like the sky when the sun is setting. Not blue or grey. _Indigo_. 

‘Hey, bud,’ Shiro murmurs lowly, gently as he reaches out to cup the avatar’s cheek. Lance shifts uncomfortably, unsure if he should be seeing this.

‘Shi-' the Avatar coughs, hoarsely, ‘Shiro? What’re you - what’re you _doing -?’_

Shiro hushes him quickly as he leans back to grasp at a water-skin Lance hadn’t spied until then. Shiro feeds it to the weakened man and Lance almost winces at the sounds of the desperate, dry swallows. Lance didn’t know how Shiro had gotten a hold of that; water-skins weren’t allowed here but he's happy Shiro did. dehydration's no joke.

Finally, the Avatar finishes and Shiro reseals it and restrings it to his belt. ‘Better?’ Shiro asks after a moment where the Avatar is regaining his breath. Settling back, the Avatar levels a glare at Shiro that's about as threatening as a kitten's. 

‘Shiro, why are you here?’ the Avatar demands but there's something stressed about his tone. ‘If someone finds you -’

‘Sh, sh. It’s okay,’ Shiro reassures. ‘You’ll - we’ll be getting you out of here soon.’ 

The Avatar frowns, obviously baffled. ‘What’re you talking about?’ 

Shiro shakes his head. ‘We don’t have the time,’ he mutters and turns to Lance, who see the exact moment the Avatar notices him. He startles, eyes rounding and face closing off. ‘Don’t worry, he’s here to help.’

‘ _Help_? Shiro!’ 

‘I know, I know,’ Shiro tries to sooth while Lance remains lost and confused with this conversation. ‘Just - _trust_ me.’

The Avatar blinks then, before he snorts. ‘Why are you here?’

Shiro swallows, Lance can hear it. ‘I need - I need you to prove it.’

‘Prove _what?’_ the Avatar asks in annoyance but as the silence continues, something seems to click and he begins to shake his head, freeing strands of limb hair. ‘You can’t be _serious -’_

‘Please.’

The Avatar scowls, deeply unimpressed. When Lance is readdressed, he tenses at how unexpected it was. ‘I don’t have a lot of strength,’ the Avatar states, voice rough as a light blush briefly colours his sharp cheeks.

‘I - I’m sorry,’ Lance says after a brief pause of hesitation. If this Is real - best case scenario, it could mean  _everything._ But he needs that confirmation.

The Avatar licks at his dry lips and beckons Lance forward, which he does after a moment. The Avatar reaches out, hand trembling in the air for the torch. Lance flinches as the flame pulls away and into the Avatar’s palm. He can’t do much more with it than that, not with how he's restrained but he does feed it, makes it bigger before sending it back to the torch.

Just that seems to tire the Avatar out but he looks back to Shiro. ‘Water-skin,’ he asks and Shiro pulls it out, uncorking it just as fast. The Avatar takes a breath and _pulls._ The moments are untrained, awkward and Lance can tell this is probably three times as difficult. Eventually though, small droplets emerge from the nozzle. 

Lance stomach twists and he’s not sure the emotion that rises in his chest at those shaky bubbles. The Avatar can’t hold it for long before what he manages to control breaks and wets Shiro’s thigh where it falls.

‘Is that enough?’ the Avatar asks with some tooth. Lance desperately wants to say yes. ‘You’re kidding me.’

‘There’s two of you,’ Lance feels the need to point out.

The Avatar glares. ‘Water is my hardest element and Shiro isn’t a bender at all -’

‘But I don’t know that,’ Lance interrupts far more steadily than he feels. ‘Just one more - Just…’

The Avatar inhales deeply and Lance feels like he may scream when instead he exhales it; turns it into the strength of a strong wind, right into Lance's direction. He doesn’t have enough time to react, to stop himself from being forced back as he's suddenly on his arse, torch forced out of his hands and rattles into the wall. The fire, miraculously survives. 

‘Air,’ Lance gasps as he opens his eyes to see the avatar’s flushed, exhausted face, Shiro’s concerned expression. ‘You’re -’

‘Yeah.’ The Avatar’s nose wrinkles. ‘And _you_ should be leaving. Shiro, get him out of here. It’s been too long already.’

Shiro grimaces, reaching out to squeeze the Avatar’s shoulder with regret. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ the avatar says gruffly but his lips tilt into a small smile. It doesn’t quite make it to his eyes though, which are shining with concern, eyebrows narrowed with frustration. 

‘I’ll be back,’ Shiro promises. ‘It won’t be much longer now.’


End file.
